content warnings: drug use, sexual themes, and mentions of sexual abuse.
Dean couldnât pretend that Declanâs words hadnât annoyed him; there was an obvious air of frustration (or was that hurt) on his face as his sibling walked away. He was trying, he really was. He wished others could see it. His entire mood had plummeted, and heâd started considering just up and leaving when he spotted Livvy. Sheâd always sparked something within him, though he wasnât sure he could explain what it was if he tried. She was coming towards him, so he decided to close the space between them, casually sipping his drink.
He noticed two things once she was right in front of him: sheâd definitely been drinking, and she was upset. Dean had always been pretty good at reading people, and he was even better at reading Olivia. He took a second to paste a concerned expression on his face before he spoke. âWoah, hey. Whatâs wrong?â He knew if he played his cards right he might be able to turn this evening around for himself.
If Livvy was in a better headspace, she wouldâve had more of a reaction seeing Dean leaning against the wall with a drink in his hand. She probably wouldâve had some flashback of high school when she first approached him at a party. His smile lit up her world and pushed back the shadows of her home life. It was like the calm before the storm of their relationship.
If Livvy was in a better headspace, she probably also wouldâve blinked in surprise as he came towards her. That familiar look of mischief in his eyes. At least, until concern replaced it. She tried her best to not seem as frantic or as desperate as she felt. She decided sheâd start with: âLaurenâs here.â
She tried not to glance towards where Lauren was likely still snickering to herself in Erinâs bedroom reading whatever gossip was being handed to her. She also tried not to turn her attention, or glare towards Camilla who invited the fire breathing bitch queen.
How did Lauren even know about her step father? Though, based on her comment, she didnât know the full history there. But still⊠only a few people knew about it. Actually, the only person she remembered going into detail about it was Simon. She mentioned it vaguely to Erin and Dean, but neither wouldâve told anyone⊠would they? Did Lauren know her step father? That would make more senseâŠ. She was spiraling. She managed to gasp out, âDistraction. I need a distraction.â She reached out a hand to grasp his wrist, though she tried to do it lightly to downplay her desperation. âDo you have anything?â
Lauren was there? Dean raised an eyebrow and fought the urge to crane his neck to look for her. She was something of a weakness of his, but he knew how she got under peopleâs skin. She must have said something to Livvy. He nodded knowingly, an understanding expression painted across his features. Heâd seek Lauren out later, assuming neither of them got kicked out of the party.
A wicked sort of grin broke out on his face when Livvy said she needed a distraction. A better person may have told her to slow down and offered to talk it out with her. Dean had seldom been accused of being a good person. He reached out to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, tracing his finger down her jaw to her chin, applying a gentle pressure until he could look deeply into her eyes. He bit his lower lip, he loved this: being wanted- needed- that little moment of toying with someone before giving them what they needed- wanted. A guy had to get his kicks somewhere.
As if he couldnât hold it back anymore, a bright grin spread across his face and he laughed. It was well practiced, looked natural. He wondered if Livvy would see through it, or if the distance between them that past several years would have made her forget his tells. âOf course I do,â He said, tone warm and familiar, âIâve not changed that much.â He usually had something on him. More often than not now that heâd started seeing Jade, though the pills werenât his preference. He jerked his head to the side, silently beckoning her to follow him. There werenât an abundance of places to get some privacy here, really. There was a line at the bathroom, but heâd never let that stop him before.
âHey, thanks,â He said to someone in line for the bathroom as he gently pushed Livvy in front of him, absolutely not subtly entering behind her while ignoring the protests from the line as he locked the door. He flashed Livvy a grin as he went digging in his pocket, pulling out a small bag with a few pills inside. âTake your pick,â He said, handing the goods over to Olivia.
There was already heat in her face thanks to the alcohol in her system, but it flared a little hotter as Dean reached out to touch her. Their close proximity, his willingness to assist⊠It brought her back to those days.
If she closed her eyes, she could almost believe that they were back in the AP fine art classroom. The lights off so no one would know they were there. Only the music was different, louder compared to the jams they would play on their phone speakers, loud enough to hear, but quiet enough that no one else could. Then there was the heat, the rush, the paint. There was almost always some kind of colorful media on their skin but never on their clothes.
Heat filled her core and she found herself smiling at him. When he gestured for her to follow, she did so, sliding her hand into his so he could more easily lead her. Her pulse sped as he brought her back to the hall, put stopped at the bathroom, pushing her inside before shutting the door behind them and locking it. He dug through his pocket and pulled out a bag with different colored pills inside. She pinched a familiar light pink one between her fingers, stamped with a heart.
It was going to take some time to hit, which was a bummer, but of the bunch it was the one that would work best for what she needed it for. She popped it into her mouth with a smirk. âThanks, she said with a content sigh.
Dean watched her with all the intensity of a hungry tiger; his eyes only left hers to scan over her body. She looked good. Very good. âItâs what Iâm here for,â He replied. Hopefully his attempt at humor wouldnât be lost on her. Being here, it reminded him of the way things used to be. There was no bad blood between them, just a stifling distance and the reminder of everything that they were when they were younger and more foolish.
âHey, uh,â He started, putting on an act so he seemed a little bashful, as if this wasnât a totally calculated move, âItâs really good to see you again.â He reached out and let his hand graze her shoulder, then traced down her arm. He was testing the waters, seeing what sheâd let him get away with. Theyâd always had so much chemistry, if he could just get a spark going, maybe they could ignite something here. Then this night wouldnât be a waste.
She smiled, a little shyly herself. âItâs good to see you too, Dean. His hand was warm on her shoulder, leaving a fiery trail down her arm. She almost hissed, but not in pain. At how good it felt. Laurenâs touch had been⊠short, calculated, foreign. Deanâs touch was heat, fire, and familiar. It brought to mind a painting she had done in high school she titled Passion in Paint after their first time together. It was a splash of orange, red, yellow, and black with hints of gold.
For a moment, she thought of Jade. How they were together and she shouldnât be here. Shouldnât be allowing this but⊠Dean was a big boy. He could make his own choices. Plus⊠what did she owe Jade anyway? She was on Gabriellaâs side of that mess. She reached out a hand, lacing her fingers through his free hand and tugged him a little closer. With her other arm, the one he had run his hand down, she reached up, moving a loose strand of his hair from his forehead. A gesture she used to do often. His hair never stayed put.
Dean smirked, allowing Livvy to pull him closer, relishing in the way her hand brushed against his face when she tried to brush his hair back into place. It was all so natural. So right. He couldnât help but think of all the times theyâd snuck off during parties and found a nice quiet place to enjoy one another. There was a comfort in familiarity, and a desire that came from years of distance. Where Olivia used to be routine, now she was an old flame to be rekindled. Dean had always been good at starting fires.
He dropped his free hand to her lower back, pulling her right up against him. He paused, then, scanning her eyes for resistance, hesitation. Maybe it was better to let her make that move, then he couldnât be accused of being too forward. âI've missed you,â He mumbled. It wasnât a total lie; he missed her desperately every time he saw a nice picture of her on social media. Something about not having her to call âhisâ anymore made the thought of her so much more tantalizing.
He readjusted the hand clasped firmly to Oliviaâs, pulling her hand up to plant a gentle kiss upon it. This was all part of the fun; did she miss him? Did she think of him? Did she want him? Those were all questions he wanted answered, and he knew he could work them out of her if he worked at it a little. He was tempted to find that spot along her jaw, nibble there for a moment, but he refrained. The ball was in her court. There was no denying what he wanted out of this interaction, and he only hoped heâd read her correctly.
As he pulled her close, she was enveloped in the heat of him. She tilted her head up to meet his eyes, her long lashes fluttering slightly. This was what she had wanted from Lauren. Not⊠She pushed the thought away. She wasnât going to let Lauren ruin any more of her fun. She tilted her head to the side, her hair falling back over her shoulder with the movement. âI missed you, too, she purred. And it was true.
He was almost as constant in her life as Simon at least in high school. After they broke up and stopped being around one another, it felt like a hold had been carved into her chest for a while. Then it didnât ache as much. Felt more like missing a finger. Odd with phantom pains, but manageable. She placed one hand on his chest, feeling the rapid beating of his heart, matching hers. âI couldnât even tell you how much.
One thing she loved about when they were together like this was the⊠tension. The pressure that would build. It was almost a game to see who would break first. âShould IâŠâ She bit her lower lip. She couldnât believe these words were coming out of her mouth. âShould I show you?â
Dean couldnât help the smile that formed on his face- it was probably the first genuine one of the night. Olivia just got him, and she was good at throwing back whatever he tossed her way. This game they played had been a constant for almost as long as theyâd known one other. Put them in a room long enough, and eventually theyâd start to see if the other would crack.
There was, also, the building pressure of the people outside the bathroom door- quickly becoming restless. Dean didnât care, but he didnât want it to kill Livvyâs mood.
But when she asked if she should show him how sheâd missed him, well, that was an opportunity he couldnât pass up. His breath caught in his chest, and before he knew it he was the one breaking, âOh, yes,â Then quickly, he added, âYes, please⊠If youâre so inclined.â He leaned in closer, if that were even possible, so his lips were almost brushing against herâs, âI would love nothing more.â
Livvy could hear the people outside. She knew it was only a matter of time before Erin herself knocked down the door...but she couldnât find it in herself to care. It was only her and Dean. There was a⊠voice in the very back of her mind who said this was wrong. That she shouldnât be here with Dean. She kept that voice in the back of her mind.
She laughed a little under her breath at his acceptance. Her own breath caught as he came closer, his lips brushing hers. When he spoke she could feel his breath on her skin, smell the alcohol on his breath. She let them hover there for a few heartbeats before she broke. She couldnât take it.
She needed him.
She closed that bit of space between them, wrapping her arms around his neck, pulling him to her and kissing him gently. Gently, of course, because though she gave in⊠they both knew there was more to burn. And she lit that match⊠by gently biting his lower lip.
Livvy kissed him, and the kindling caught. Dean kissed her back, hands resting, for a moment, on her hips, pulling her in. Sometimes it didnât feel enough to be close, pressed together, you wanted to melt together. Couldnât be close enough.
And he took her bait, deepening the kiss, relishing the taste of whatever sheâd been drinking and the scent of her. Livvy had always smelled nice; it was a little different,a little more mature than the candy-sweet smells of her high school days, but still certainly her. It was the paint, probably, cutting through the vanilla, that he picked out as being her scent. He never could smell fresh paint without thinking of her. She was, in all, perhaps just as intoxicating as the alcohol. Dean let his hands wander as they kissed- exploring, gripping fabric, never quite digging in though. Instead, he firmly planted his hands on her backside to hoist her up onto the edge of the sink, tracing kisses from her mouth down to her jaw, slowly kissing until heâd found the right spot, then gently nipping at the skin there.
A soft sound slipped from her as he kissed her back, his hands on her hips. This close, she could smell cinnamon with something a little spicier underneath. When he took her bait and deepened their kiss, she found it wasnât enough. She wanted more, more, more of him.
Then she was lifted, sitting on the edge of the sink. He trailed kisses from the corner of her mouth, to her jaw. Each kiss was a flame on her skin and she gasped. She ran a hand up into his hair, encouraging him until he found the spot. It was her undoing.
She closed her eyes and--with the muffled sound of the music from a different part of the house--she was brought back to that room in high school. Sitting on one of the work tables and exploring one another. Another sound slipped from her a little louder, a little more desperate. Without looking, she found herself undoing the buttons of his shirt, her fingers shaking slightly as she went.
Dean smirked against her skin, hands flitting across her body still, as if desperately trying to find purchase. He broke contact with her as she went to unbutton his shirt, taking half a step back to undo the buttons himself, and casting the shirt aside. âThis one too?â He asked, almost teasingly, as he lifted his white undershirt up and over his head.
It was almost incredible, really, the way the body remembers all the little things. A nip at the neck, a hand at just the right part of the thigh, that sloppy way you kiss when youâve gone past the point of caring about neatness.
Dean let his hands rest on Livvyâs waist for a moment, pulling her closer to him again, then reached to tug at Livvyâs top. They could remove it if they decided, but for the moment he would be happy just tugging it down and out of the way.
Never in her life had Livvy been happier that high-low skirts were a thing as his hand trailed up her thighs, pushing back the fabric. They were warm and rough from his time in the kitchens. She reached as he pulled away but stopped once she realized what he was doing. She bit her lip as he removed his shirts exposing the slight muscle hidden beneath them. Then he was on her again, their kisses more heated, their touches hungrier.
His hands were on her waist, his thumbs reaching the tender skin beneath her breasts and at first, she hadnât noticed. At first, it hadnât bothered her. But then⊠No one wants you, his voice echoed in her mind. No one, but me. Then it wasnât Deanâs hands but her step fatherâs. Gripping her, holding her to him, touching herâŠ
She pushed Dean backwards. Hard. Her breaths came quickly and were shallow like she couldnât get enough air fast enough. It took a moment to register what she had done. âSorry, I-â She started to say, a hand going to her waist. She was going to be sick.
She pushed from the sink, legs giving out beneath her causing her knees to smack into the floor, but she made it just in time. Her eyes burned, body trembling as she retched. She was dizzy, she was panicked, she was embarrassed, she was numb, she was overstimulated⊠it was all too much.
Dean was taken aback by being pushed; he hadnât expected it, and narrowly avoided falling back himself. He caught himself, but that didnât stop his head from hitting the wall off the small New York bathroom behind him. Irritation and embarrassment flared up in his chest, but Olivia was apologizing, and she quickly bolted to the toilet.
Then an awkwardness hung on Deanâs shoulders like a weight, pulling him down to the bottom of some unknown emotional harbor. He wasnât sure what to do, so he squatted down close to Livvy and put a tentative hand on her shoulder. He hated vulnerability, never knew what to do with it. âHey,â He said, more mumbling than actually speaking, âIt's okay.â He questioned if he should do more, like try to hold her hair back or something, but if he were being honest he was a little grossed out by the vomiting, so instead he awkwardly patted her back for a moment before deciding to get his t-shirt back on. Maybe sheâd had more to drink that heâd thought, or the drugs and the alcohol were a bad combination.
She came up for air, a cold sweat on her brow. She couldnât look at him. She didnât want to see the face he was making. She could only imagine disgust, pity, worry⊠She wanted to have a good time. To not let Lauren affect her and she failed. âSorry,â She said, barely more than a whisper. âLauren just,â She ran a hand through her hair, pulling it back from her face as the room spun around her, âGot into my head. He got back into my head.â She shuddered as a wave threatened to rise. âJust⊠sorry.â
When Livvy mentioned Lauren getting into her head, it all clicked. Anger flared in his mind: of course it was because of Lauren. Sheâd said as much before, but Dean hadnât thought it was like that. âDonât apologize for that,â He said, shaking out how button up and draping it over Oliviaâs shoulders. It wasnât much, but it was a layer to hide under until she felt safe again, âDon't even apologize for that.â
But this wasnât something he was equipped to deal with, nor did he think his presence would be particularly comforting. And he didnât want to be the person doing this part, if he were being honest. He sighed, running a hand roughly through his hair. âStay put,â It was a command, not a request. He slipped out of the bathroom, shooting a sharp look at the impatient souls waiting just outside the door, âBe patient.â, made a beeline to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water, and went to look for someone that might be better at helping Livvy through this than he would be. Almost anyone would be a better option, really, but he ran into Erin first. âHey,â He interjected, not really caring if he was interrupting something, then he leaned in close to whisper, âLivvyâs having a breakdown in the bathroom,â He passed the water to Erin, intending for her to take it to Livvy; he knew she didnât like him, but he also knew sheâd take care of Livvy. âLauren said something to her. I think about her stepdad.â He was sure that would be enough.